Half for half.

“Half a Roti for a Brother”

In Nandgaon’s fields where peacocks play,

Two brothers danced through night and day.

One was moonlight, calm and fair,

One was monsoon, dark as air.

Balram laughed with eyes so wide,

And teased sweet Krishna by his side —

“You're not from Ma! You came by trade,

For half a roti, the deal was made!

 No silver coins, no jewels, no gold —

Just half a bite from roti cold!

You're not of Nanda’s royal line,

You’re someone else’s — not truly mine!”

Krishna stopped — his smile fell down,

His face turned pale, he dropped his crown.

“I’m not her son? That cannot be!

She sings to sleep and feeds just me!”

He ran to Ma with sobs so deep,

Like Yamuna’s wave, he couldn’t sleep.

“Ma, Dauji says I’m not your own,

Just half a roti and I was gone!”

Yashoda gasped and held him tight,

Her Kanha sobbing in the night.

 “My child, my love, don’t ever fear,

You grew within my soul, so near!”

She turned to Dau and softly smiled,

“Oh teasing words can break a child.

If color’s cause for this great war,

I’ll end it now, for evermore.”

She took some kajal, black and bold,

And smeared on Dau, so proud and cold.

Then matched their dress — the same they wore,

From peacock crown to feet on floor.

Now both looked dark, and dressed the same,

No one could guess by face or name.

Two little clouds in Braj did run,

Both laughed again beneath the sun.

Yet deep inside, one truth remains —

A mother's love through joy and pains.

And still the world in songs repeats,

Of roti deals and Krishna's feats.

In the peaceful village of Nandgaon, Krishna and Balarama spent their days in joy — playing, wrestling, stealing butter, and herding calves. Though they were brothers, they looked different: Balarama was fair, glowing like the autumn moon, and Krishna was dark, like a monsoon raincloud.

One day, while playing in the courtyard, a playful quarrel broke out between them.

With a sly grin, Balarama teased Krishna, saying:

"You don't really belong to Nanda Baba's family!

I’ve heard the truth — you were traded for just half a roti by some wandering cowherd!"

Krishna froze. His eyes widened, his lips trembled.

 "No! I'm Nanda Baba's son! Yashoda Ma loves me the most!"

But Balarama laughed and pointed at his own fair skin:

"Look at you, Krishna — you're dark! We're all fair. Rohini Ma, Nanda Baba, even I — all of us. Only you look different!"

The cruel innocence of a brother’s teasing pierced little Krishna's tender heart.

He ran to Yashoda Ma, sobbing uncontrollably, his cheeks wet with tears and dust from the courtyard.

"Ma! Ma! Dau says I’m not your son! He said I was traded for a roti! Am I not your Krishna?"

Yashoda, startled and heartbroken, hugged him tightly.

"Oh Kanha, my sweet dark jewel! You are mine, more than my own life!"

She scolded Balarama for making Krishna cry, but then, inspired by divine playfulness and a desire to stop this teasing once and for all, she did something clever.

A Mother's Solution: One Color for Both

Yashoda thought, “If color is the reason for doubt, let me make them look the same.”

She took black kajal and natural dyes, and painted Balarama’s fair limbs to match Krishna’s complexion.

Then she dressed them identically, with the same peacock-feathered turbans, yellow dhotis, and garlands.

Now both brothers looked like two little Krishnas — two rainclouds dancing in the monsoon of divine love.

She laughed and said, “There! Now you're both alike. Let’s see who belongs to whom now!”

Since then, the Braj tradition lovingly recalls how "it’s easier to paint one white child black than the other way around", and from that day forward, in many pastimes and images of Nandgaon, both Krishna and Balarama are shown with dark complexions and dressed identically — in memory of that emotional, playful moment.

This leela shows not just sibling love and teasing but also:

The depth of Krishna’s need to belong — even the Lord of the Universe longs for a mother's embrace.

The warmth of Yashoda’s love, which accepts beyond logic, skin, or birth.

And Balarama’s role as both a brother and teacher, sometimes playful, sometimes testing Krishna’s emotions — yet always protective.

In nandagram to this day both Krishna and balrama are dressed alike o this day can't tell one from another.